In Which There Is Much Talk Concerning All Things Colonic

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So, apparently, Benny Hinn’s got himself a wife:

Now, for those who don’t have .WAV or are just too lazy to click, here’s the take-home-message of her gum-flapping highly informative, motivational and moving speech:

“If you’re engine isn’t revving, you know what you need? You need a Holy Ghost Enema right up your rear end!”

Okay, so there are many aspects of my life where the Holy Spirit’s presence is needed, wanted and appreciated. Up my butt is, oddly enough, not one of them. My Colon and I have a special relationship. We’ve come to a mutual decision that involves a specific one-way flow of ‘information’. I refrain from jamming random objects (holy or not) up inside My Colon and My Colon refrains from letting said ‘information’ escape at inopportune moments.

Now, perhaps Mrs. Hinn does not have this type of agreement with her own Colon. Perhaps they have more of a free-flow of ‘information’ thing going on, (see Appendix G – Ass, Talking Out of Ones). Could it be that Mrs. Hinn might actually benefit from a Holy Ghost Enema? (see Appendix H – Ass, Removing One’s Head From One’s).

I suppose that’s between Mrs. Hinn, her colon and the Holy Spirit.

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About Angela

My name is Angela. I am a 28 year old psych and criminology graduate, but I'd rather not diagnose you. I am a cuddle-slut. I can recite the entire script of The Princess Bride, (including accents) and believe that the meaning of life is contained within. Polyanna, Snap.com commercials, and Oprah 'reunion shows' make me cry. I can whistle and hum at the same time, but I cannot touch my toes. I am an expert in both listening and talking. I look good in orange. I am a writer. I kick ass in Gin, Hearts, and Cribbage but I don't understand Canasta or Bridge. I can be heard singing Broadway numbers from my shower, and have dressed up as a viking princess, (complete with aluminum foil breast plate) The Phantom of the Opera, and a Ghostbuster for Hallowe'en. I have a bird named Bean. I have a brother named Adam. They are not related. I like vanilla body lotion, peanut butter, saunas, Jim Carrey, broccoli, pets, TheOnion.com, Muppets, Kevin Smith, Corelle dishes, dry erase white-boards, Barenaked Ladies, Philosophy, the letter J, Harry Potter, picture frames, swimming, quilting, Michael Moore, genealogy, Raggedy Anne, tacky 50's tchotchke, 'Idiot's Complete Guide To' books, tweezers, feather pillows, polar dips, aquariums, Martin Luther King Jr., and Dr. Pepper. I don't like meat, gossips, cooked carrots, American Idol, mosquitoes, sweating, politics, public washrooms, tardiness, tuition, hunting, pat answers, pick up lines, brown bananas, cliches, pine scented air freshener, Kevin Costner, bacon, candied apples, pro-wrestling, humidity, and hypocrisy. Books I've read recently The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Dark Tower, When Nietzsche Wept, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Catcher in the Rye, Not Wanted On the Voyage, The Red Tent, The Little Prince, The Way the Crow Flies, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Poisonwood Bible, The Fall, The Knot of Vipers, Calculating God, The Chrysalids, Sick Puppy, Nineteen Eighty-Four, Franny and Zooey, The Brothers Karamazov, and jPod. I am slightly neurotic. No I'm not. Yes I am.

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